Good Night, America
by PostScriptAfterWriting
Summary: A fluffy first-meeting between Pirate!England and Chibi!America, with a little Chibi!Canada thrown in as well. Platonic UkUs if you want to call it that. Now with a sequel that gives Canada a bit more attention!
1. Good Night, America

A/N: I think time passes differently for nations: a year might as well be a month, a week might be only a day. Who knows? Either way, that's just a headcanon.

Also, I apologize if there are a few inaccuracies as far as the timeline and mentions of explorers go. I'm going by what my school taught, but I know there are varying opinions among historians and such.

Without further ado, please enjoy the fluffy goodness of Chibi!America. Hooray for platonic shipping!

* * *

Innocent sky-blue eyes peeked through a thick green bush. "Little bunny, where are youuuuu?" called the little boy, pushing his way through the shrubbery.

His quarry, a rabbit, twitched its nose smugly and was about to bound away when a small hand descended on him and caught him by the furry white tail. The rabbit squeaked in alarm as it was dragged around to look the boy in the eye. Though strong, his grip wasn't painful, but almost gentle.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, and cuddled the rabbit in a hug. Its squirming attempts to escape were futile, until a noise distracted the boy.

"America!"

The rabbit scampered away as America ran to greet another little boy. It was his brother, Canada. The two were both just children, undiscovered personifications of the unknown lands of North America. Technically, they had no real names yet, since they weren't even colonies, but both had picked out what they wanted to call each other.

Canada was about two feet tall, same as his brother. He had copper-blond hair, slightly darker than America's honey-blond. His eyes were indigo, in contrast to the other boy's pure blue ones.

"America!" he said again as the two met in the shade of a towering oak tree. "Foreigners have come again!"

America frowned, puzzled. "Again?"

"Remember when the Vikings came to my eastern coast?"

"Oh! Yeah, that. Are the Vikings back? Don't worry, Canada! I'll protect you."

Canada shook his head vigorously. "It's not Vikings this time. There's this man called John Cabot, and he says he's from across the ocean. A place called 'England'."

America's frown deepened. "There was another guy, too, about five months ago. He called himself, er...Christopher Columbus! That's it. He was sailing around the islands south of me, about five months ago."

Canada blinked. "You never told me about that."

"Sorry," America said guiltily. "Anyway, what are we going to do?"

"Cabot said he was going to return on a second voyage with his employer."

"Well, we have to stick together until then. I'll watch out for you."

Canada smiled and nodded. His brother had always liked to play the hero.

* * *

Months passed with no sign of more explorers, except for the ones constantly wandering south of America. The little blue-eyed boy spent his days chasing butterflies in the meadow, while Canada would sit under a tree and weave a flower crown for him. They both typically wore small, plain white nightgowns, made for them by the Native Americans that they met occasionally.

Canada watched in amusement as America went cross-eyed, trying to study the butterfly that had landed on his nose. The sun was setting in the west, its fiery glow tinting the meadow a reddish color that matched the monarch butterfly's wings. The winged insect flitted away, and America came to sit by his brother. The two put on their flower crowns, laughed, and eventually fell asleep curled up beneath the tree.

America awoke at dawn the next morning. Sleepily, he blinked and was about to snuggle back down beside his brother when something caught his eye. Carefully, he stood up, doing his best not to disturb Canada. After making sure that his brother was sleeping soundly, America tiptoed away, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes with the grubby back of his hand. In no time, the child was standing on the shore, sand shifting beneath his small bare feet. Squinting into the rising sun, he could make out the outline of a tall, four-masted ship. America sat down in the sand, waiting for the ship to come closer so he could get a better look at it. Unlike most other ships, it seemed to be coming straight for him, rather than around to the Caribbean islands.

By noon, the ship was much closer. Canada had joined America on the beach. The two brothers watched the ship intensely, not minding the salty ocean breeze that ruffled their hair. Not even a rabbit would distract America now.

The brothers could just make out a tall figure standing at the bow of the ship. Other shapes, crewmembers, rushed around attending the ship. Flying high atop the main mast, rippling in the wind, was a flag. It had a simple red cross on a white background.

It was nearing sundown when the ship anchored just off the coast. The brothers observed attentively as the tall figure from before, along with several others, climbed into the jollyboat. In no time, the boat was nearing the shore.

It was at this point that Canada, being much more fainthearted than his brother, lost his nerve. He fled into the forests, leaving bold America alone on the coast. The small boy stood proudly on his land as the jollyboat was beached. Blue eyes, looking deeper and darker in the fading light, fixed on the tall figure.

"What's your name, lad?" the man called loftily as he jumped fluidly out of the boat and onto the sand.

America balled his small fists, ready to fight. The man stopped walking when he was in front of the boy and looked down at him thoughtfully.

"Well, you don't have to tell me, I suppose. I'm England."

America found himself about level with the man's lower thigh, and frowned. He tipped his head back to get a better view of the man. England stood about 5'9", with forest-green eyes and thin, messy blond hair. He had especially dark and bushy eyebrows (they reminded America of caterpillars), arched under the fringe of his hair. He wore a scarlet tailcoat over a loose white shirt and grey trousers. There was a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist, and thrust through it was a cutlass with no sheathe. England wore an elaborate captain's hat, with plumy feathers that fell to the right side, almost all the way down to his chin.

"A-are you a pirate?" America tried to sound brave, but he couldn't keep the stammer out of his voice.

"Pirate?" England chuckled, considering it. "Mn, no, I wouldn't say that. Once upon a time, perhaps. I currently work in service to the King, as a privateer."

America tilted his head, confused. The man crouched down so that he was level with the boy.

"I suppose you're not familiar with such terms. His Majesty the King is a man who rules over political affairs. He deals with the leaders of other countries. I deal with the countries themselves, since I am the very spirit of England."

"I'm America!" the boy told the privateer, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Well, America, how would you like to become a colony?"

"A...colony? What's that?"

England smiled. He was already inexplicably fond of the boy. "A colony is a territory of a different country. The country that formed the colony, or colonized it, is responsible for the colony's welfare. This means that, if you became my colony, I would come to visit you and take care of you. When you're big enough, maybe I can take you to see the other nations."

America blinked. "O-okay, I guess!"

"Splendid. Now we just need to put it into writing."

"Writing? What's that?"

England stared at him incredulously. "Nobody ever taught you how to write, lad?"

America shook his head solemnly.

"Hm. We'll have to fix that." After a long pause, England said, "Are you hungry, America?"

America was about to say no, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl of complaint. He had only eaten a few strawberries today, and that had been much earlier in the morning. The new colony gave a sheepish smile, and England laughed. The nation turned and called an order to the men still sitting in the jollyboat. Soon enough, the boat was on its way back to the ship. While they waited for the men to return with food, England began to explain the land he came from, starting with a drawing in the sand. America listened intently and watched with wide eyes, taking in everything that the privateer said. It was so...so _fascinating_. He had hardly been aware there was a world beyond his and Canada's shores, previously. He didn't quite understand everything his colonist told him, but he grasped an impressive amount of it. By the time the men returned with supplies from the ship, America felt that he had a fairly accurate image of the British Isles.

The new colony's mouth watered as the men began to prepare the banquet. He had never seen such exotic foods; he had only ever shared meals with the Native Americans or gone foraging for himself. There were all kinds of new dishes brought by England, from scones to candy to salted meats. (He found the first item of the list mildly revolting.)

As they waited for the food to be prepared, England reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a long red ribbon. "Here, America. You can have this."

America took the ribbon gingerly and tipped his head to the side, examining it. "What is it?"

"It's a ribbon. You can wear it—here, let me help you put it on." England cautiously tied the ribbon just under the ruffled neck of America's nightgown. The child loosened it a little bit, then beamed with a grin as bright as the sun.

"I like it!"

England smiled, his heart unusually warmed at the sight. "I'm glad."

Later in the night, the nation and his colony sat by the toasty fire, watching the flames dance. America yawned widely and leaned against his new caretaker. England smiled as the little colony snuggled into him. He gently ran a hand through America's hair, sifting it like sand. For a moment, he tried to smooth the stubborn cowlick at the front of the child's hair, but eventually decided that it was a useless endeavor.

"I'm glad you're here, Engwand," America murmured sleepily.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," England replied softly. And he was. Although stumbling across this new land had been a mistake and a detour from the planned route to the riches of the Far East, it wasn't bad. Here he could explore uncharted land, but most of all, he'd be able to help a young nation grow and learn. Before long, he felt the child's breathing deepen and knew that he had gone to sleep. With extreme care, the nation laid his colony down on the grass near the edge of the sand. Then he removed his warm red coat and draped it over the little boy.

England sat and watched for a moment, vibrant green eyes flickering happily in the firelight. He wondered what had suddenly sparked all these tumbling thoughts and emotions, and realized it was something he hadn't felt for a very long time: the fanciful thing that was far more common in humans than in nations. Love. It didn't matter that he barely knew the boy yet. He did know that he would love this colony unconditionally, die a thousand times to keep him safe. Closing his now-watering eyes, he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the crown of the precious child's head.

"Good night, America. I love you."

* * *

A/N: I swear, I normally don't ship these two in such a platonic manner. But, even if you don't ship them, or if you just like to see their father-son relationship or whatever else, I hope you enjoyed the story. Reviews would be lovely!


	2. Colonies and Stars

A/N: So where's Canada?! XD Sorry, guys, I got so wrapped up in UkUs fluff that I forgot about Canada, just like everyone usually does. I mulled this over for a little, because I honestly had no intention of adding a second chapter with an England-meets-Canada scene, but I figured it would be nice to give our favorite unnoticed nation a little bit of the spotlight, so here I am. This is for you, Canada!

Also thank you, reviewers, without you I probably wouldn't have remembered this little guy at all.

* * *

Wonderful aromas wafting by pulled America from the pleasant unawareness of sleep. He sat up, pawing at his eyes and yawning widely. A camp had been set up around him, and it was already abuzz with the activities of many strangers. For a moment, he panicked, wondering why these foreign people were here on his land, why he was sleeping in their midst -

"America, you're awake." A more familiar man was standing nearby now, smiling gently.

The boy searched his mind for the name to match the face. "E...Engwand?"

"Yes?" The nation crouched down, smiling at him. He wasn't wearing his hat at the moment, but held it in hand; without it and the dimness of dusk, his thick caterpillar brows were more prominent than before. America wondered what would happen if he touched them, and giggled. England chuckled uncertainly.

"Not sure what we're laughing at, but you're cu -" The nation cut himself off with a pretend fit of coughing, using it as an excuse to hide his flushed face. _Idiot, you can't just tell little boys they're cute without sounding like a creep. _"Ahem, er, would you like breakfast, America?"

"Yeah!" the child said, nodding enthusiastically.

England called out an order, and then the two sat in silence. Green eyes studied the boy, who was still preoccupied with the new happenings in the camp, looking around with awe in his brilliant blue gaze. Suddenly America met his eyes, and smiled sweetly. His colonist's heart fluttered - the child was just impossiblyadorable.

"Can I wear your hat?" he asked.

The privateer handed it over with a small smile, watching as America fumbled with it and eventually settled it on his head. Backwards, of course. England let his smile spread to a grin; the hat was far too big for the colony, and it slipped down over his eyes. Giggling, the child peeked out from under it, trying to tilt it back. He finally found an angle that kept it out of his face for the most part, and toyed with the feathers contently.

Soon, a well-dressed man came to them bearing plates of food. America tucked in heartily. Well, no, heartily wasn't strong enough a word to describe it. He set about devouring his eggs and toast like a wolf. England observed his messy eating habits critically, though the man kept silent about it for now. He'd definitely teach the boy proper manners, but right now, they were both still very new to each other and he didn't want the child to become upset with him. Plus, America probably hadn't been eating as well as he should have, being alone all this time.

His reluctance to scold the child had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that America looked adorable with crumbs on his chin and his chubby cheeks stuffed to maximum capacity. Not at all.

"Oh!" said the boy, suddenly jumping upright and almost spilling his food.

England saved the plate and its contents with quick reflexes, and looked at his new colony with mild irritation. "What's this about?" he demanded.

America looked back at him with teary eyes, and his expression immediately softened, all annoyance washing away. Had he already screwed up?

"Canada!" the child said, as if it should make perfect sense. When his colonist only stared in confusion, America explained, "Canada's my brother! I completely forgot about him 'cause he ran off when you showed up, and now...oh no, Canada!"

"America, calm down," England soothed, catching him by the sleeve as he turned to run off. "I'm sure Canada is alright. Would you like to go look for him?"

The boy nodded vigorously, blue eyes still glistening with tears. Looking at him, the weight of this new responsibility suddenly hit England. From now on, it would be his duty to care for this child, to comfort him when he cried or had a nightmare, to try to understand him, to be patient and kind. The thought itself was almost as overwhelming as the panic and despair he saw in those brimming blue eyes.

"Let's go!" America said impatiently, bottom lip trembling. Guilt consumed his young soul. He'd forgotten his brother! That wasn't heroic at all.

England carefully set the plates down and grabbed his coat from where America had left it lying. Quickly and expertly arranging it, he stood up. "Okay, do you remember where...er, what's his name? Oh, yes, Canada. Do you remember where Canada went?"

"He got scared when your boat came closer, so I think he ran off into the forest!"

"Alright, then we can start there." England hesitated, then asked, "Can I...I mean, would you like me to carry you, America?"

"No, this is my land, remember? I can run really super-fast here! Maybe _I_'ll have to carry _you_."

Though slightly embarrassed - he'd been sailing the sea so long he'd forgotten what it was like to run on his own land and manipulate it as he wished - England was relieved to see a smile on the child's face. He chuckled in response and gestured with a mock bow. "After you, little Captain."

America sprinted off, and England did indeed struggle to keep up. The land was naturally opposed to him; he was practically an intruder here, but he knew it would come to accept him over time. That didn't make the brambles tangling around his feet or the sudden tree roots any less unpleasant, but he managed to keep his swearing to a minimum and under his breath.

"Canada!" the little boy shouted, dancing easily around twisting vines and disturbances in the path. "Canada, you can come out now! This is Engwand. He's really nice! He doesn't want to hurt us!"

Silence.

England frowned, deciding to join it. "Canada?" he called. "Your brother America is worried about you! Can you come out? I'm sorry if I frightened you yesterday when I came with my ships."

A little ways behind them, the little boy poked his head around a tree, indigo eyes wide. He hesitated, indecisive. The man striding up ahead was an imposing figure, tall and bold in his boots, extravagant hat, and red cloak. Yet America walked with him fearlessly, and he'd said this 'Engwand' was nice... Taking a deep breath, Canada toddled out onto the path and started to follow the two.

"I'm here," he said quietly, and their own calls easily drowned him out. He tried again, a little louder, but still went unheard.

America, eyes wobbling with tears and worry again, turned around to face his colonist. By pure chance, he looked past England and saw his brother behind them. "Canada!"

The privateer managed to keep his balance, though America nearly tripped him in his mad dash towards the other child. England stood in place, smiling at the reunion. America had tackled his brother to the ground, fiercely proclaiming that he'd never let him go again. The other boy struggled weakly, but England heard his faint laughter. When Canada finally pushed America off of him and sat up, both of their nightgowns had dirt and grass stains, and they were grinning. England deemed it okay to approach, and crouched down in front of them.

"Hello, lad. America told me you're his brother."

Canada nodded, regarding him uncertainly. "Wh-why did you come here?" he asked in a whisper.

England smiled gently. "I sailed the ocean on behalf of my King. John Cabot met you, I believe. He couldn't remember your name, but he told my King about your land. I was sent here to colonize you."

"'Colonize' means that he's gonna make us his colonies! He'll take care of us and teach us stuff," America explained, proud to know the definition.

"That's accurate enough," laughed England. "So, what do you say, Canada? Would you like to be my colony? America has already agreed."

The boy was silent for a moment. England could tell he was definitely less rash and outgoing than his brother, and more thoughtful. He realized he'd be dealing with each of these boys very differently.

"I-I guess that would be nice," Canada murmured timidly.

"Excellent."

"Yaaay!" exclaimed America, grinning a grin that could (and someday would) light the whole world. England smiled, watching as the little colony took his brother's hand, but he was unprepared when the other small hand snatched his with surprising strength and tugged. America took off for the camp at a run, dragging a stumbling privateer and a panicked brother with him. The hat flew off the little boy's head.

"A-America!"

"Y-you're running too faaast!"

The sprint, combined with his land-manipulation, got them back to camp in under a minute, but when they reached it, America was unable to stop. All three of them catapulted into a (thankfully unoccupied) tent, bringing it crashing down. When they finally disentangled themselves from the folds of fabric, England looked at his two colonies. Canada started giggling, America cackled, and, unable to contain himself, the green-eyed nation burst out laughing as well. It didn't matter than his men were staring at him and likely writing their Captain off as a lunatic. These boys and their happy, smiling faces were the world to him right now. Once again that slightly unfamiliar sensation of love filled him with warmth. _For the man who used to be the scourge of the seven seas, you've grown very soft, _he chastised himself, but didn't really care.

Finally, England decided it was time to usher the boys off the tent and help set it up again. They watched quietly, but America was still grinning and Canada was smiling. It was nearing noon when the job was done and England turned his attention back to his colonies.

"So," he said, sitting down with them, "what would you like to do?"

"Um," Canada said hesitantly. His brother nudged him encouragingly. "Can we...can we, um, show you a place we like?"

"Of course." England smiled and stood again, extending his hands to help the boys up.

America beamed, raising his arms up, but his colonist tilted his head in confusion. "You can carry me this time if you want!" the child said, blue eyes shining.

England didn't hesitate, picking up the colony and positioning him on one shoulder. He lifted Canada to the other one, giving a small grin when their little arms wrapped around his neck.

"Okay," Canada said quietly and pointed. "We need to go that way, back down that path in the forest."

The walk was peaceful, disrupted only by the clicks and chirps of animals, and America's incessant chattering to Canada about the world beyond their shores that the Englishman had told him of. England didn't mind the loud talking next to his ear; he was immersed in his surroundings. Before, they had been in a hurry and he hadn't had a chance to observe the forest. Now, at a slower pace, he could see the many, many different types of plants and trees, most of which he didn't recognize. There were creatures, as well, that were definitely not native to his own land. It was beautiful here, pure and unharvested by the hands of greedy men. England winced at the thought, because that was all he had brought to America, really. Greedy men who would churn up the land and shape it to their own will. Such a thing was beyond his power, because he was a nation and mankind was not entirely his to control, but it saddened him to think that, months in the future, this land might be barren of nature and occupied entirely by those greedy men. He only hoped, for America's and Canada's sake, that would be many, many, many months in the future. Years. Decades.

Before long, Canada mumbled, "Turn left."

England obeyed, cutting off from the path and walking out into the midst of the trees. He had only gone a short way before he came out into a meadow. He stopped, gazing around admiringly. On his shoulder, America giggled.

"Isn't it pretty?" Then he was climbing down England's body as nimbly as a monkey. His bare feet hit the soft grass and he went off running. England helped Canada down and watched the more shy boy run after his brother, a little slower. The nation followed them to a majestic oak tree with a huge, spreading shadow.

Canada dropped back to talk to the colonist. "I usually go and sit there while America runs around and chases butterflies," he said softly, his tone making it seem almost like a confession.

The privateer laughed. "I don't blame you. It seems like a good place for resting - not all of us have your brother's energy."

The two sat together in the shade while America, true to his reputation, leaped and danced with the elusive butterflies. Eventually, Canada fell asleep with his head on his colonist's leg. England smiled and gently laid his hand on the copper-blond hair, vaguely observing the gravity-defying curl that bounced in front with the breeze. He had already become fond of his newest colony as well. Soon he could feel his own eyelids grow heavy and start to droop over his green eyes, but America ran up to him, shaking his shoulder excitedly.

"Look!" he said, holding up a bunny. "I found Usa!"

"Shh." England held a finger to his lips and pointed to the still-sleeping Canada, but smiled and nodded at the bunny. "Don't you think Usa might like to run around freely like you did, though?" he inquired softly, noticing the rabbit's awkward squirming.

The child's blue eyes were suddenly very solemn. He turned the bunny to face him, regarding it with that serious gaze. "Engwand's right, Usa. I'm sorry. You should be free, so I'm gonna let you go." Finished with his speech, he tenderly deposited the animal on the grass.

Usa sprinted away, but before it went very far, it stopped and looked back at the boy hesitantly. "Go," said America, waving his hands towards the meadow. "You need your freedom."

England smiled. "That was kind of you, America."

The boy beamed at the praise, and he was about to say something when he interrupted himself with a yawn. His colonist chuckled.

"Are you tired as well? You can join us if you'd like."

America nodded sleepily and plopped down next to England, snuggling against his side. England happily shifted his arm and moved it to the other side of the boy. He was starting to drift off to sleep when something poked at his boot. A nose, with twitching whiskers... He wondered if it was a weird dream, then realized it was the bunny, Usa. It continued sniffing at him, then cautiously hopped closer. England was amused and amazed when it came right up to them, crawling on his leg and then sprawling out between him and America. The boy was already asleep, breathing calmly. The nation smiled and shook his head, closing his eyes again and wondering what else might come to join the naptime pile.

* * *

It was nearing sunset when they all woke up. America was first, accidentally smacking his colonist in the chin when he tried to stretch. The nation winced and opened his eyes, then laughed at America's apologetic expression. Gently, he roused Canada.

"Come on. Let's get back to camp - you can go back to sleep after we eat a little dinner."

The little boy nodded and sat up, pawing at his eyes blearily. His brother took his hand, grinning. Together, they hurried across the meadow to the forest path, America skipping easily and leaving Canada struggling to keep pace. England followed them, but paused at the edge of the meadow, remembering the rabbit that had come to sleep on America's leg. There had been no sign of it when they woke up. He shrugged, smiled a little at the pleasant scene of the meadow with the fading sun filtering to it through the trees, and followed the boys.

Dinner consisted of fresh-caught fish that the cooks had fried, supplemented with potatoes and peas the Englishmen had brought with them. France might have called the cooking an abomination, but the new colonies, who had seldom tasted food like this, delighted in it.

"So good!" America mumbled through a mouthful. Canada nodded his agreement, making sure to be far more polite with his chewing.

Pride surged through the colonist. It was rare and satisfying to have someone compliment English cooking.

When the sun disappeared completely below the horizon and the meal was finished, they walked down to the seashore. England couldn't help but grin as they went out to the moist sand left by the outgoing tide, right up to the edge of the water, and it flooded in again to lap at their feet. The

England consulted the boys. "Would you like to sleep in a tent tonight?"

"Nuh-uh!" America said instantly, jerking his hand straight into the air almost violently.

England stared, puzzled.

Canada clarified for him. "The stars," the shy colony said in that soft whisper of his, tilting his head back to look up. "We've always slept beneath those. We really like them."

The privateer regarded their mesmerized expressions, the pinpoints of light reflected in their eyes, before he turned his own gaze upwards. It was enough to make his mouth drop open slightly. The sky was completely clear, the heavens and heights far above spread out for all to see. The myriad of stars spiraled this way and that, vortexes of them thrown and splashed everywhere like drops of paint on the night. They seemed so close he could stretch out his hand and touch them, but still too far away to be anything but ethereal.

"I wanna fly to those stars someday," America mumbled dreamily. He had backed up to dry sand and flopped out with his arms crossed behind his head.

"I bet you'll do it," his brother answered, smiling. "Promise you'll take me with you?"

"Promise," agreed America. "And Engwand, too."

Privately, England thought the notion of humankind ever lifting off the ground to be preposterous, but he didn't say so. He was still slightly transfixed by the brilliant speckles of light, anyways. _What are they, truly? _he wondered. It had been a long time since he had star-gazed like this, almost since he was as young as his new colonies. When sailing at night, he had often navigated by the stars, but his mind was never concerned with the sky when he looked up at it. He hadn't paused to admire those stars, being more interested in the swaying of the deck beneath him, the cresting waves and the soft slosh of the ocean as the ship cut through it. The sea was his love, and had been ever since his pirate days. Yes, he had mellowed down now, but sailing an old ship of his had brought back memories and he had practically felt the power of the ocean rolling with him.

Now, on land again, he saw what he'd missed.

"They're amazing," he remarked quietly. A peaceful stillness had fallen over the camp and the beach, and he was loathe to ruin it by raising his voice.

When he received no response, he snapped his attention back to the boys worriedly. A grin broke over his face when he saw America slumped over, snoring softly. His brother sat looking down at him, then looked over his shoulder at England and grinned as well, lifting a finger to his lips. England nodded, and Canada carefully stood up and stepped around America to move next to the colonist.

"Do you have any books?" he asked in a murmur.

England looked down at him and arched his eyebrows, surprised. "Can you read?"

"No," Canada admitted, flushing with embarrassment. "I'd like to learn, though. I was thinking that maybe you could read something to me?"

The nation grinned again. "Of course. Follow me."

He delicately scooped up Canada's sleeping brother and carried him to camp, while other boy walked beside them. Once they reached a campfire, he gently deposited the still-snoring child on the grass a little ways from it and left Canada to watch him, hurrying to the tent his men had set up for him. They had brought many of his belongings from the ship for him as well, and he easily found what he was looking for. It was in an old trunk he'd acquired and filled with his notebooks, charts, and textbooks. The item he sought was at the very bottom, and after a bit of rummaging, he regarded it triumphantly. A storybook. Probably the only one he owned. He never thought he'd have any use for it, and once considered using it as fire kindling, but he couldn't bring himself to burn a good piece of English literature, no matter how childish and useless it seemed.

It would certainly come in handy, now. It was easy reading, and had plenty of entertaining rhymes and short tales to amuse a young mind.

England hurried from the tent and rejoined the little boy by the fire. The nation opened the book and his colony scooted closer to look at the picture as England read the words to him.

"This is the tale of St. George and the dragon..."

He read long into the night, firelight weakly illuminating the ancient pages as he flipped them. Every now and then, Canada would comment or giggle. Eventually, he rested his head on the edge of the book, smiling sleepily at his colonist. England noticed but continued reading, although he lowered his voice to a more hushed tone.

"That is how George, the brave knight from the land of the fairies, earned his sainthood," he finished softly.

Canada was fast asleep by now, snoring considerably quieter than his brother did. Smiling, England gently pried the book from under the boy's head and set it to the side. He picked Canada up with utmost care, moving him and laying him back down a safe distance from the fire. This time, he happily draped his red coat over both of them and sat back, gazing at them fondly. Life with them was going to be nice, he decided. Sure, they were different - from each other, and from him. Canada was so much more timid and soft-spoken than his rambunctious brother, but they had an obvious bond. England vowed he would learn to deal with each of them in their own way, and that he'd try not to forget Canada all the time.

It was odd, but a little exciting, to realize that he would actually be raising these two boys, teaching them of the world and his own customs and how to read. He'd protect them, no matter what. He'd do what was best for them, regardless of whatever orders his King gave him.

"Sleep well, you two," he whispers, kissing each of them on the foreheads before stretching out on the grass next to them. The glorious stars still glittered far above, and the ocean washed against North America's shores. _Yes. I just want to stay here for a while and spend time with my colonies. I'll teach them, learn from them, and... _He yawned and closed his eyes. _Eventually, I'll make a report to the King. But for now, this place, being here with America and Canada, is just fine._

* * *

A/N: Wow, nearly twice the length of the first one. Woohoo.

I apologize for any mistakes, I was rushing a little bit to get this one done, but I'll try to go back and weed out a few errors if I notice any or if you point them out to me. I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are much appreciated!


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